“Miss Veronese?” Peppe asks when I find him hanging out with the other drivers in a lounge off the attached garage.
“Home, please.”
During the past week, I’ve made several attempts to sneak into Dad’s office, but the door was locked every time. The only other way in is through a window that faces the backyard. Dad leaves it ajar sometimes. With all the staff and security guards who typically buzz around the house, I couldn’t risk breaking in. Today, all our household personnel were brought to this country estate to help with the party.
I had already written to Massimo this morning, telling him about the bloodbath that decimated Camorra. On Friday, the head of the clan—Alvino—along with half of his crew, had been found dead at an out-of-the-way church outside of Boston. I heard Dad telli
